Beyond the Sex Palace

INT. SEX PALACE - THE END OF TIME

JEREMY sits on an ornate throne atop a pile of jewels, overlooking the Sex Palace. He sighs as he sips his brandy, while below all kinds of rude action takes place. Above him, the universe continually tears itself apart, reforming again after a short while. Next to him, a PORTER stands ready to serve him.

JEREMY
(to no one in particular)
I think I have grown tired of this place. Perhaps it is best that I move on.

PORTER
Are you certain, sir? You know you can stay here as long as you like. I assure you, once you return to your home it will be as if no time at all has passed. You could even stay here forever, if you so desire.

JEREMY
I fear for my sanity, should I stay much longer. Besides, there is work for me to do.

PORTER
If I can do nothing to dissuade you, then I have no choice but to honor your wish.

JEREMY
You can do nothing.

PORTER
Then my duty is complete, save for this: a warning, for your protection. The way back is not as simple as the one you followed here. Take heed, for many a brave man has lost his way, and cursed himself to drift forever upon the River of Souls. I pray this fate does not befall you, young master.

JEREMY
As long as I have my wits, they shall carry the day.

PORTER
We shall see, sir, we shall see. May fortune smile upon you, and you once again behold the passage of time.

Jeremy stands, placing his brandy on the armrest of the sex throne. Carefully making his way down the jewel pile, he nudges his way through the throng of intercourse, and toward the darkest corner of the palace. As he walks, there appears...


INT. PATH OF LIGHT - THE FIRST SECOND AFTER THE END OF TIME

He walks shrouded in total darkness, only the path of light is visible. He stops for a moment.

JEREMY
At last, I begin.

He walks.

He walks for a very long time.

FADE TO:

INT. PATH OF LIGHT - STILL THE FIRST SECOND AFTER THE END OF TIME, THOUGH CLEARLY MUCH LATER

He is still walking.

JEREMY
I am STILL walking.

His pace slows now, as his walk melts into an exhausted stagger. He stops to catch his breath.
He realizes with a start that the path ahead of him is beginning to melt away. He lunges forward and runs as fast as he can. All he can here is the roar of his breath and the blood rushing through his ears. He runs, and he runs, and he FUCKING RUNS.

Without warning, the path slips away beneath his feet, and he falls. Possibly forever.

FADE TO:

EXT. TREE OF LIFE - DAY?

Jeremy awakes to find himself in a meadow. There is nothing around for as far as he can see. The only thing in the meadow is the a small gnarled tree, and in front of it, and old man chiseling away at some STONE TABLETS. He is the SCRIVENER.

JEREMY
Excuse me, old man, do you know where I am?

SCRIVENER
Hm? Where you are? Oh, it's hard to say for sure. But I can say with complete certainty where you aren't, and that's right here.

JEREMY
I beg your pardon?

SCRIVENER
This place, young man. This is the one place you most definitely cannot be.

JEREMY
I can say with relative certainty that here, wherever here is, is precisely where I am.

SCRIVENER
Impossible. Nobody ever comes here. You're somebody, ain't ya?

JEREMY
Yes, that much should be obvious.

SCRIVENER
Indeed it is. So you're not here, simple as that.

JEREMY
But, by the same token, should it not be obvious that I, a person, am standing before you at this very moment, in this very place?

The scrivener eyes him with some suspicion, then nods sagely.

SCRIVENER
I suppose so. Very well, despite everything I know to be true, you do seem to be here.

JEREMY
Well, now that that's settled, where am I?

SCRIVENER
Are you daft, boy? You've just answered your own question. You're here.

JEREMY
Yes, I know that. What I'm wondering is where exactly here is?

SCRIVENER
Ah. Well, that depends.

JEREMY
(laughing)
It depends? What, pray tell, does it depend on?

The scrivener gives Jeremy an icy stare, until at last the smile disappears from his face.

JEREMY (CONT'D)
Really now, old man, you've had your fun. Now be straight with me. Where am I?

SCRIVENER
Like I said, it depends. This place, it isn't a fixed point. In fact, it's not a point at all. It's somewhat of the opposite, if you can imagine that. Picture a single place, a single moment, if you will, stretched over all of creation. Or picture all of existence perched upon the point of a pin. It's not quite like either of those things, but it's the closest way I can think of putting it. This place is no place, and it is every place. So, to know where you are, need to know where you are coming from, and where you are going. With that information, perhaps you can find yourself, and maybe you can leave this place.

JEREMY
I don't quite understand, but I think I've got the idea. I come from the Sex Palace, and I wish to go home.

SCRIVENER
Ha! I should have known to look at you, boy. Tell me, do you think yourself some kind of hero?

JEREMY
No, I've never considered myself as such.

SCRIVENER
Really. That is interesting; few find themselves in your place without some kind of noble intentions, or pretensions, as it were. Are you sure you are not a glory seeker, young'un?

JEREMY
What? No! My patience with you grows thin, old man.

SCRIVENER
Come now, there is no need to hide yourself here. In addition to the other two things, you must also know yourself to find the road ahead.

JEREMY
It wasn't selfishness! I had to come. Vanessa--

SCRIVENER
(surprised)
Hold a minute, boy. What is your name?

JEREMY
It's Jeremy. Jeremy Clarke.

SCRIVENER
Excuse me for a moment, Jeremy.

The scrivener turns, and searches through his pile of tablets. He picks one up and looks over it. His expression lowers.

SCRIVENER (CONT'D)
I see. I'm sorry to have doubted you, Jeremy.

JEREMY
What was written on that tablet?

SCRIVENER
Tell me, did you find what you were searching for?

Jeremy lowers his head.

JEREMY
No.

SCRIVENER
I'm sorry.

JEREMY
Yes, well. Will you help me now?

SCRIVENER
I will do all that I can. Unfortunately, now that I know what I know, I cannot tell you where to go.

JEREMY
What? You son of a bitch, you told me you would help me!

SCRIVENER
I will, but you must be patient.

JEREMY
I have been patient. Do you know what I've been through to get here?

SCRIVENER
I do. And I know you must face further challenges still. And though I could help you avoid those challenges, I must not. I dare not.

JEREMY
You speak as though you know my future.

SCRIVENER
I do. It is written in stone.

He indicates the tablets.

JEREMY
My destiny is written on those tablets? Let me see!
(he picks one up)
I can't make this out! What language is this?

SCRIVENER
It is not language. It is simply... a record.

JEREMY
A record?

SCRIVENER
Of all of time and eternity. Everything that has been, or shall ever be, is recorded on those tablets.

JEREMY
You mean... everything? As in all of history?

SCRIVENER
Yes, and far beyond.

JEREMY
All of creation... is on THESE tablets?

He indicates the tablets. There are only a few more than a dozen.

SCRIVENER
As I said, they are not written in language. The symbols you see are very dense, infinitely dense in fact. Your entire life, along with billions of others, is recorded right here.

He points to a tiny symbol, almost indistinguishable in the mess.

JEREMY
Curious, how amongst all these lives you were able to recognize mine.

SCRIVENER
I am well practiced at reading the tablets.

JEREMY
No, it goes beyond that. Before you even consulted the tablets, you seemed as if you knew me. It seemed as though once you figured out who I was, you suddenly began to take an interest in me, where before you were aloof. Tell me, old man, were you expecting me?

SCRIVENER
Enough, it is time for you to go.

JEREMY
Aha! So you were. And why is that? What do you know of my destiny, what is so important about my life?

SCRIVENER
Fine! I will tell you which way to go. Begin at the tree, and face your shadow--

JEREMY
Perhaps I won't go. Perhaps I'll just take this chisel and end my wretched life.
He picks up the chisel, and holds it against his temple.

SCRIVENER
Please, Jeremy, I beg you. Do not do this!

JEREMY
Then tell me!

SCRIVENER
I'm sorry.

JEREMY
Not nearly as sorry as you're going to be.

SCRIVENER
No, I'm sorry for this.

In a heartbeat, the sky turns to black, and every single blade of grass loses its hold on the ground. Jeremy once again finds himself falling into the void. We hear a splash.

CUT TO:

INT. RIVER OF SOULS - ETERNITY

Jeremy falls into the river, flailing and splashing. He drives his way up to the surface and breaks through, gasping for air. His relief is short-lived, for he is immediately pulled back down into the water.

He thrashes against the thing pulling him down, while large gray shapes float past him. He kicks, again and again, but to no effect.

Suddenly, a bony white hand grabs him by the arm. He twists out of its grip, finally bringing him face to face with the horrific entity.

Its features are human, but its appearance is ghastly. They are gray-skinned and emaciated, with most of their bones visible through their skin. All are completely hairless. Around the eyes and nose and anywhere the skin is broken, an greenish gray liquid oozes out. Their eyes are the same milky gray as their skin, and their mouths are completely black, inside and out.

The one that has grabbed Jeremy convulses in pain as Jeremy twists its wrist in his escape. Quickly realizing this, Jeremy reaches out and claws at its eyes. Its eyes burst into sludge, and it clutches its face, sinking to the bottom. The display causes the creatures below him to loosen their grip, and Jeremy breaks free, swimming as fast as he can, the monsters chasing him closely.

He breaks the surface again, but instead of stopping for breath he pushes forward as fast as he can, blindly hoping that he's heading toward some kind of shore.

He pushes forward, but is now starting to slow. He is running out of breath. Several of the creatures leap on top of him, and begin to drag him down.

He stops struggling, resigned to his fate.

Suddenly, a hand appears just above him, reaching down to him. It is not the bloodless hand of the creatures, it is pink and healthy. Jerome grabs onto it, and it pulls him up and out of the water.


INT. SHORE OF THE DAMNED - CONTINUOUS

The hand pulls Jeremy onto the shore, where he coughs and sputters for a moment. He looks up to see his rescuer, a dour-looking man, in a black cloak holding a scythe. He is DEATH.

DEATH
I... am Death.

Jeremy takes a moment to take all of this in.

JEREMY
Really?

DEATH
No, not really.

Suddenly, Death's demeanor changes completely. He becomes cheerful and manic, and more than a little eccentric.

DEATH (CONT'D)
I mean, they call me that, sure. Gotta call a fellow something, I suppose. I guess I do look the part, what with this fucking thing, eh? I don't even know why I have it to be honest. Yes, yes, it's my name, too, I should mention I suppose. Though that whole process, ugh, gives me the willies, it does. Why they'd want to name such a thing after me, I have no idea. Hehe, corn spouts, after all, know what I mean?

JEREMY
Er, no. I'm afraid I don't.

DEATH
Oh, well you know, it's jealousy. Jealousy, yeah. That's why they done it. After that whole moon cat debacle, and all that. Now, can I fetch you some tea?

Jeremy looks around, it is blackness as far as the eye can see.

JEREMY
Um, no thanks. So you're Death and that--
(points to the river)
--I take it is the River of Souls.

DEATH
Oh yeah, the river. The river, that's where most of them end up, they get stuck in there, and forget they was people. Now they're nothing but kite strings.

JEREMY
Those are people in there?

DEATH
People who forgot how to be people. Now all they do is make others like them. It's all they remember. The fork, no, um, what is it? River! The river, it turns you. Into that.

JEREMY
My God.

DEATH
Oh yes, don't expect to see him around much anymore.

JEREMY
Wait a minute, are you saying that God exists?

DEATH
God? Who said anything about God? I'm just watching the leaderboards.
(singing)
"Brother can you spare an antidote?"

JEREMY
Right, so I'm not looking forward to going through this again, but can you tell me how to get out of here?

DEATH
"Brother can you give me your--"
(he stops singing)
Oh, no. No no no no no. You can't get out. If there was a way out, don't you think I'd have found it? It's nothing but marzipan in every direction.

JEREMY
How helpful. Well, if you think of anything, I'll just be heading off in this--

DEATH
Hey, you're the guy, right?

JEREMY
Excuse me?

DEATH
You know, the guy, the guy with the stuff. The one they've all been talking about.

JEREMY
Who? Who's been talking?

DEATH
Don't play dumb, you know what it is. It's... it's damned complicated, is what it is. We've been trying to make sense of it.

JEREMY
We?

DEATH
We. You know you, me, and the guys. We few. We happy few.

JEREMY
Well, it's been nice chatting with you.

DEATH
Oh it has, believe me, the pleasure is all ours. So long, Mr. Special Destiny.

JEREMY
What did you just call me?

DEATH
You're the one, the one who changes the world.

JEREMY
How? How do I change the world?

DEATH
Hey, I don't get bogged down in details. Big picture, big picture. If the pants fit, you gotta return them. NO! Don't return them!

Beat.

DEATH (CONT'D)
Too bad you ended up here.

JEREMY
What do you mean?

DEATH
There's no way out. Special destiny?
(blows raspberry)
All gone, like ice cream. Man, I could go for ice cream.

JEREMY
But, it's destiny! How can it change?

DEATH
They changed it, the dudes. Those dudes were real mad at you, dude.

JEREMY
That's it? After all that talk of how great I am they shove me down here because I hurt the feelings of some old man?

DEATH
Hey, could be worse.

JEREMY
How?

DEATH
You could be in there.

He points to the river.

JEREMY
That's not much comfort. Either I could be a mindless zombie in there, or I could wander around out here for an eternity.

DEATH
Time makes vagabonds of us all. For you, doubly so.

Jeremy walks a few paces and sits down facing away from Death.

JEREMY
I just don't get it, why me? What have I done to deserve this. I just...
(he starts crying)
I just wanted to see her again. It's not fair. Why can't... why can't I just...

He lets it all go, all the pain and all the hopelessness he's been keeping inside. In the background, we can see Death cleaning his ears with his scythe.

Death walks over and sits down next to him.

DEATH
Looks like you're done. You've reached the end. What are you going to do now?

JEREMY
(composing himself)
I don't know.

DEATH
The way I see it, you can either go gracefully, or you can go out kicking and screaming.

JEREMY
Oh, kicking and screaming, definitely.

He laughs, somewhat relieved.

DEATH
For what it's worth,
(he points with his scythe)
I have a pretty good feeling about that direction.

JEREMY
Thanks.

DEATH
Think nothing of it, kerosene.

With a great deal of effort, Jeremy scoops himself up and sets off in the direction Death has indicated.

He walks.

And he walks.

And he walks.

FADE TO BLACK.

Here Is a List of Games I Will Not Be Buying This Tuesday:

1. Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2


2. Lots of other games

Now, number two is obviously a given, but why, you might ask, am I not buying what is likely to be the best-selling, critically-acclaimed game of the year? Is it because I am mad that there are no dedicated servers on the PC version? Last I checked I'm not not a douchebag, so that's not it. Am I boycotting it because of that leaked video where you play as a terrorist and kill innocent civilians? No, but I do have some thoughts on that, but we'll get to that. The real reason I'm letting this game pass me by is because of Uncharted 2.

When the first Modern Warfare came out, I thought it was the bee's tits (which is to say, I thought it was good). It was like being in a summer blockbuster whose budget was approximately all the money in the world, and you were the reliable mute buddy of the hero of the movie. Every single scene in that game could have been the big crazy climax of the biggest, craziest Michael Bay movie.

But therein lies the problem. If every second of the game is climax, then there's no pacing to it. You spend the entire game brutally charging forward, and when you reach the end of the game, it just stops. You can't even call it anticlimactic; it's everything BUT anticlimactic.

Uncharted 2 is similarly based on a big action movie that has been financed by God, but it introduces the concept of pacing. Hot damn is that game well paced. It follows this basic pattern of a few light gun fights, gradually increasing in scale, until you approach an epic set piece, kick its ass, and then there's some nice relaxing platforming or puzzle solving while you reflect on how awesome you are. It's these quiet moments that really drive home the sense of accomplishment. In Modern Warfare, you can't really enjoy the fact that you just blew the shit out of everyone with an AC-130 because it's 30 seconds later and you're already running down a street dodging rocket fire. It says a lot that the calmest section of the game is the part where a nuclear bomb goes off.

Another thing that sets Uncharted 2 apart is the fact that you're actually the wise-cracking badass hero of the game, rather than the retarded freak who's following him around. Captain Price is obviously the hero of that game, as he's the only person with any characterization at all, and he's the one who gets to do all the cool stuff. As Nathan Drake you get to jump out of moving trains and kick people to sleep, all while spouting cool one-liners (such as, "I'll kick you to sleep."). In Modern Warfare, the only meaningful way you can interact with anything it to put bullets into it.

Oh, and there's also the fact that Uncharted is an Indiana Jones movie (not Crystal Skull, one of the good ones), which automatically trumps the Michael Bay vibe of the Modern Warfare games in terms of style. Amazing action with deep characterization is just better than anonymous explosions.

It's actually kind of a shame these games came out so close together. If Modern Warfare were coming out in, say March, I might have been interested in it. But coming just one month after Uncharted, I'm having trouble getting it up for the similar but inferior game.

Oh yeah, I almost forgot about the terrorist thing. Ok, so if you didn't know about this, there's a scene in the game where you apparently play as a terrorist, going through an airport killing hundreds of innocent civilians. This has upset a fair amount of people, and unleashed a low-level PR shitstorm at Infinity Ward, the game's developer. Now, I see where they were going with this, it's like that scene in a movie where you see the villain do something really villainous and terrible, and that increases your desire to see them taken down. But the problem is, that doesn't really work in a game. In the movie you're just watching the terrible thing go on, but in the game you're actively making it happen. I know that playing that part of the game won't make me go, "these guys are fucking horrible, my passion for defeating them is renewed!" It'll probably be more like, "I'm not enjoying this, I'm going to turn off the game and listen to Bob Dylan for a while."

Even worse was what came out after the story broke. The developers revealed that the before the sequence happens, a message comes up warning about the upcoming content, and offering the chance to skip the section. Bullshit. Even though this idea turns me off, I respect their prerogative as artists to include it. But pussing out like this completely ruins it for me. This is not doing the respectability of the medium any favors. True art is not optional. When you watch the Godfather, you're not offered the option to skip the horse head scene. On the other hand, if the scene is skip-able because the developers don't feel the scene is absolutely necessary, then it shouldn't be in there at all.

Another rationalization they offered is that in this scene you are in fact not an evil baby-killing terrorist, but rather an undercover agent infiltrating an evil baby-killing terrorist organization. Something was said about tough decisions in the name of the greater good, but once again: bullshit. As far as I can tell the only choice you're offered is to either take part in the mass murder, or stand by and allow it to happen. That's not a choice. "Oh gee, should I kill and eat this puppy, or just stab out both its eyes and kick it down the stairs? Which is the moral thing to do?" And I doubt either option has any real effect on how the game progresses.

The thing that really annoys me is that they could have done the exact same scene, but had you play as a civilian rather than one of the murderers. Then the scene would have exactly the desired effect of horrifying you and filling you with righteous fury. But I guess they don't want to do that because they feel it would be too similar to something they did in the first game. As it stands, the only emotion it evokes is slight disgust. Which is not ideal.

Before this came out, I might have considered picking the game up sometime around next summer, or whenever they knocked a few bucks off the price. But at this point I think I just don't care anymore. Of course, not like that's going to stop the game from selling millions of copies.

Whatever. I think I'll go play through Uncharted 2 again.

An Extravagant Amount of Garfield

More Of Dreams

This afternoon, after having eluded me for about 36 hours, I finally caught hold of a decent scrap of sleep. During that time I was transported away to the strange and magical, and occasionally terrifying, recesses of my own mind in the form of the vivid hallucinations that sometimes accompany the rapid fluttering of the eyes. I have made the point before that if dreams do indeed offer a rare uncensored look into the processes behind a person's mind, then what I am about to reveal to you is probably deeply personal and very embarrassing. However, the narrative of this dream is just too hilarious not to share, so whatever to all of that.

As before, I can verify that all of the key elements of the following story were present in the dream, with embellishments only for dramatic effect or to ease the transitions between scenes. No major plot points have been added.




TRANSCRIBED DREAM BEGINS HERE



So, I’m walking along the beach, when I notice something weird about the ocean. The last few feet of the waves come up about a foot and a half above the sand, and just sort of hover there, never crashing down to the ground below. Clearly, I figure, someone has fucked up the coast. I call out to the Coast Guard, “Hey idiots, nice job on the coastline!” Suddenly the boat changes direction, and begins speeding toward the shore. People are starting to shift around, obviously terrified of the maniacs in the Coast Guard. Some people actually flee. Looking back, maybe I should have run too.

I stand my ground as the boat hits the small jump at the end of the sea and boffs onto the sand. Three large men climb out, and begin to advance on me. I find myself surrounded. One of them pins me to the floor and begins to handcuff me. I allow him to, and the man drags me to my feet. As they begin to take me back to the boat, god only knows how they’re going to get it back up into the ocean, I position myself behind who I take to be the ranking Coast Guard officer. Instantly, I dislocate both of my shoulders and throw my handcuffed arms over my head, bringing the tiny chain down around my captor’s neck. Holding this man hostage, I demand that my handcuffs be unlocked. They comply, and one of the men returns with a small key. The second he turns it in the lock and the handcuff pops open I whip the newly freed cuff into his face. I then throw my hostage to the floor and proceed to summarily kick all of their asses. As I leave the beach, one of them croaks out a warning. “The Coast Guard will not forget. The Coast Guard never forgets.”

The next day I am visiting my old high school with my good friend Superman. There is a commotion at the front gate, and we quickly realize why. The Coast Guard has shown up in force to arrest me. Quickly we move to the back gate to escape, but they have cut off our route there. In an act of desperation, we duck into an English classroom.

The Coast Guard eventually find us. Superman pulls a gun on them, and I simply place a hand on his shoulder. He understands now, this was all part of the plan. You see, what I have not told you is that I am a secret super-spy, and my mission is to take down the corrupt and brutal Coast Guard.

A man walks in who I have not seen before and introduces himself as Agent Johnson of Coast Guard Special Operations. He explains that I am to be taken out of the country for “deep interrogation.” Superman pulls out his wallet and gives me a hundred dollar bill to cover my expenses while in captivity, and I go with the Coast Guard.

Eventually the bag is removed from my head, and I find myself walking through a South American slum alongside Agent Johnson. I have no idea where I am, but luckily we pass a guide map. I notice there is a Sea World nearby. I point this out to the agent, and he looks away longingly. He confides in me that he has never been to Sea World, but it has always been his wish to go. I tell him how great Sea World is, lying my ass off. In truth, Sea World is boring and dreadful, but I sell it as the greatest thing entire goddamn universe. I am trying to earn his trust here.

Catching my enthusiasm, he buys us two tickets, and we spend the day at Sea World. During the Shamu show, there is an unexpected appearance in the show by Superman. The crowd goes wild. Superman says, “You know what I love best about Sea World?” He pauses for dramatic effect.

“BASEBALL!”

The crowd cheers as Superman produces some baseballs, and a bat. He knocks several home runs into the audience, and they all fly directly into my hands. I shove the baseballs into my pockets, because of course they contain secret coded documents relevant to my mission.

On the way out of the park, Agent Johnson stops to negotiate with a prostitute. He asks me if I am cool with this. “Hey man,” I say, “whatever you want to do.” He does not seem satisfied with this, and tells me never mind, it was only a joke anyway, but I can see in his eyes that he was serious, and now he is embarrassed.

We pass a door marked, “Employees Only.” The agent asks me if I’ve ever wondered what kind of crazy pumps they must need to pump all that water into the tanks, and haven’t you always wanted to see something like that? He takes my awkward silence as some sort of begrudging acknowledgement, and we begin to break into the backstage area of Sea World. We find ourselves in a hallway, and we hear footsteps approaching. The agent instructs me to hide, but it is a hallway, so the best I can do is to lie down on the floor. He places a small wastebasket in front of the door, and lies down next to me on the floor. The door opens, easily tossing the wastebasket aside, and a woman walks through. “Oh, Jorge,” she says, “somebody left a bin in front of the door, could you pick it up?” We look at each other realizing she somehow thinks we are the janitor, and incidentally one person, and begin giggling uncontrollably. She shoots us an annoyed look, and we look away innocently.

Finally arriving in the pump room, Agent Johnson is filled with a school child wonderment. He starts gushing about how he’s never seen pumps like these before, and isn’t it amazing, though wouldn’t they get more pressure if they were closer to the source, and on, and on, and on. It was starting to get really annoying, and I began to question whether it was really all worth it. I finally decided that it wasn’t, and I went home.



END TRANSCRIPTION

The New Version of Itunes Has a Problem

You know what it is? It doesn't play songs. Isn't that just wonderful, how it fails to do the one thing it's programmed to do? It's like if a company was making a blender, and when it got to the testing department, there was the following exchange:

Dickless Manager: So, does it blend?
Worthless Employee: Nope, I press this button and nothing happens.
Dickless Manager: Well, let's ship it out anyway, we can always patch it later.

Seriously Apple, that is some outstanding quality assurance. You should really branch out, just think of all the good you could do outside the field of computers. You could make a pair of scissors that can sing the alphabet backwards, but can't cut paper. Or a shoehorn that slices off your heel and attaches it to your ankle. Or you could make a staple remover that rather than removing the staples, makes your documents 50 times more stapled than than they were before you interfered.



What really makes me mad is that I just got the Beatles remastered stereo box set, and I decided it would be peachy keen if I could encode it in a lossless format. After some research, I figured the Apple lossless format would be the simplest without installing new software to learn, test, and obsess over. So now all my sweet, sweet Beatles albums are locked away in the oppressive .m4a format, and I'm to fucking tired to figure out how to get at them right now. I guess I should just learn not to update apple products, but they were doing so well for a while there. Maybe I'm foolish, and I just can't change the laws of the universe. The sky is blue, the grass is green, and Apple will fuck you over if you give them a chance.

Um, I guess this is the part of the rant where I vent about what horrible things I want to happen to them.

Um... hang on a minute...

Okay, I've got one. Apple, I hope whoever is in charge of your quality service department has to eat 52 beer bottles, shit them out, light them on fire, and then eat the flaming shit with the glass shards in it. I hope his legs fall off, and his eyeballs turn inside out, and everyone laughs at him and calls him fat. Then just for good measure you should blow up the department and kill anyone who has ever had contact with him. After that, you should probably start fixing your horribly broken program.

So Apple, until next time you decide to fuck me, hugs and kisses.

More From the Time Cabinet

Here is another thing I found in my journey into the past, written on a small scrap of paper. As to its age, I have no idea. I don't even remember writing it. It's clearly my handwriting though.




TRANSCRIPT BEGINS

Nobody ever told me where the secret to perfect waffles lay, but I found it in the heart of all of us. And that's how I saved Christmas from the mole people, whose hearts are full of love and kindness, two ideas wholly incompatible with Christmas. Ultimately, time will judge me, as it does us all. I hope it will judge me fit for duty, on the sandwich press of life. Gooooooood night!

END OF TRANSCRIPT




Final thought: Baffling!

Something From the Time Cabinet

While going through some of my old possessions, I found an old bit of writing I had done. It's a very short short story, more of a micro-narrative really, hastily scrawled while waiting in line for something, if I recall. It makes reference to Conan O'Brien's perceived nemesis from his Finland special, which I suppose would date this to about 3 years ago. I should warn you, it's not particularly funny, it's ridiculously short, and doesn't make any sense at all. In fact, the only person this thing is probably of any interest to is me. But I do feel bad about not posting anything, so here's a bit of silliness.






Only once did I have the pleasure of meeting Forss Fagerstrom. It was the winter of '88, the coldest one yet recorded by the weather gypsies. As I recall, he was wearing forest green moccasins, and smoking a rather large rubber phallus. We were at the same fancy dinner party, on the occasion of Admiral Forsythe's eleventh birthday bash. Fagerstrom's eye caught mine, and for whatever reason he chose to impart some wisdom.

"Jimmy," he said, though my name was Wagsley, "Jimmy my boy, has anyone ever taught you the secret to successful banking?"

I could honestly say no one had.

"Well, the secret, dear Jimmy, is to take all of your money and fashion it into tiny paper boats. And the change, well, they can be sailors, can't they?"

I saw no reason why they couldn't, yet the entire process still confounded me. "And how does one gain returns in such a venture?" I inquired.

"Poor naive Jimmy," he ticked. "Don't you see? You send the ships out to sea, and they return from the new world with gold, and spice, and stuff."

His breath reeked of cheap brandy as he leaned forward to deliver the final word. I wasn't sure which "new world" he was talking about, so I did the only rational thing I could. I drew my revolver, pulled back the hammer, and blew out the back of his head all over the balloon animals.

In the ten years since the murder, and the resulting police shootout that claimed 18 lives, I have been able to see that his words, though profoundly stupid, do carry some wisdom. He didn't mean physically fold your money into ships. Or maybe he did, point is it's a metaphor. Probably. I'm not really sure, but then I guess I'm not as smart as Forss Fagerstrom.

He really had so much to teach us. It's a shame his life was cut tragically short by me.